


10 ways to say I Love You

by KastleandCoffee



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Forgive Me, Tumblr Prompts, kastle is my muse rn, so cliche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KastleandCoffee/pseuds/KastleandCoffee
Summary: 10 ways that Karen and Frank say "I love you." Based on a Tumblr post of the same name.





	1. One

_i. Straightforward. Soft and heavy, like morning before the coffee’s started brewing. Like that's all there is to say._

Frank wakes up at 5am on the dot, a leftover habit from his army days and doing PT before the sun came up. Karen was still passed out, wrapped up in their sheets. He smiled, brushing her hair out of her face as she makes soft sleeping sounds. He calls them snores, which she vehemently denies, cheeks heating up.

Her forehead creases and she turns her head into his palm, chasing his touch. She opens up her eyes, those damned baby blue eyes that have seen right through him since the very first time he met her. “I love you,” he rumbles, flashing a soft smile. 

Karen chuckles, angelic, cherubic, perfect. “I love you too,” she laughs, nose scrunching up in the way he endears. _God, he’s such a goner for her._


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This guys are my life right now. Enjoy some defenders fun. 
> 
> If you want, follow me on tumblr! Ntasharomanvs.tumblr.com

_ii. Through laughter, over a chorus of voices, knowing it’ll strike home anyway. It’s meant for everyone here, after all._

It's late and she's drunk, oh she is soooo drunk; But it's refreshing to see Frank like this, his shoulders relaxed, not constantly glancing around the room like he's doing recon. Nope, Frank is sprawled out on their side of the booth that they're sharing with Foggy, Matt, Jessica, Luke, and Danny. After the shit that happened with the Hand (again!), Matt had introduced them all. Frank and Jessica got along too well, constantly picking on Matt. 

“Castle!” Jessica calls from the bar. “You wanna whiskey neat?” 

Frank gives her a thumbs up before curling his arm around Karen's waist. She can't help but lean into his inviting warmth, resting her head on his shoulder. She trails her finger along the inner seam of his jeans near the knee, enjoying the buzz of the alcohol going through her veins. 

“What're ya doing?” Frank asked, his voice all gravel, sending a shiver through his spine. He noticed, of course he did. He smirked down at her, sprawling his hand along her rib cage. 

“Mmm… nothing,” she murmured coyly, biting her lower lip. 

Frank goes to respond, but Jessica slides his drink across the booth to him, making some remark about getting a room. Karen doesn’t have it in her to care, too enthralled by the way that she can feel Frank’s answering chuckle in his shoulder and his chest. 

Then, the moment passes and Karen is struggling to keep her eyes open, too drunk and too comfortable to care that she’s still in at a bar; Frank will take care of her. 

“I love you,” She whispers, as the group erupts into cacophonous laughter. Frank hears her though, always has one eye and one ear on her at all times. He smiles, a real smile now, and kisses her head. “I love you too,” he responds. She can hear their friends start to make harmless fun at them, but it doesn’t matter to her. She doesn’t care if all of the Defenders know how bad she’s got it for the Punisher, hell, if it wasn’t so dangerous, she wouldn’t care if the whole world knew. 

Frank started rubbing her back soothingly and she’s out, one hand still resting on his chest. He smiles as her face smooths out, the worries of today washing away. 

“Hey.” Luke has a knowing smile on his face, watching them from across the booth as he sips his water. He doesn’t really drink but he enjoys everyone’s company. “You really love her.” It’s not a question.

Frank nods. After everything, he didn’t think he could ever love another woman, but Karen Page had wormed her way inside his heart with a no bullshit attitude and dogged determination. Luke has a look of approval on his face. 

As long as it didn’t leave this booth, Frank didn’t care. Everyone here can witness his declarations of love. It isn’t a secret. Not anymore. Never again.


	3. Three

_iii. Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out._

This is the third time this month that she's gotten harassed on the streets. She usually attributes it to the crass demeanor of doped up junkies, but right off the bat, she knows this is different. She can feel it in the way that the grip on her wrist is much more forceful than the feeble attempts of the junkies to get some cash. She can feel it as her attackers put a bag over her head and she’s thrown haphazardly into the back of the van. She keeps quiet as the van starts to move, mentally follows the path they take through the city. 

Frank is gonna be pissed. She didn’t have her gun on her, telling him that she’s just going to visit Trish, and ‘she lives on the nice side of town. Who am I gonna shoot, the doorman?’ She could just hear the lecture she was gonna get once she was home safe. 

She only had her mace on her, but she fought like hell when they came for her, managing to land a satisfying sounding punch to one of her attackers before her hands were zip-tied behind her and she was thrown into the van. 

By the time the van screeches to a full stop, she knows that she’s in the warehouse district, probably near the shipyard. _Fuckin’ great. Nothing good ever happens in the shipyard,_ Karen thinks bitterly. 

This isn’t the junkies or even the cartels, she thinks. It’s probably goons hired by the CEO she exposed in her article the day before. Less likely, an enemy of Daredevil. 

She felt herself being searched for weapons and then tied to a chair, legs roped to the legs of the chair and arms bound to the back of the chair, still, zip tied. She groaned as her kidnappers were rough with her limbs, biting back a yelp of pain. 

“Where is Frank Castle?” 

Karen blinked as the bag is torn away, leaving her adjusting to the harsh spotlight being shone on her. Well, she was wrong about who took her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she hissed. “Frank Castle is dead!” 

That got her a punch to the gut, gasping for air as she cursed at her attacker. A bald, muscular man, probably ex-marine. Probably one of Frank's shitty fellow soldiers that joined Schoonover’s business on the side 

“Don’t lie to me, bitch. Frank Castle is alive. I know his handiwork. Saw it last night on the docks,” Baldie growled. 

_So that’s what Frank was up to last night._

“Copycats.” Karen groaned, getting her breath back. “There’s a Punisher copycat in the kitchen.” 

He punched her this time, splitting her lip. She spat blood at him, rolling her head back. She looked up into the spotlight, hoping Frank found her soon. With how paranoid he was, she was sure that her phone had a tracker in it, but her phone was in her purse. 

She had lost track of time, bruised and bloody from the interrogation. She perked up as her captor's walkie crackled to life. 

“Taylor- there’s movement on the perimeter. I think it’s-“ the walkie cut off, and Karen smiled, teeth bloodied and bared. 

“You’re dead, asshole.” Karen laughed, slightly hysterical. She heard gunfire outside. 

Frank had found her. 

Taylor starting moving towards her and for a split second she thought he was going to hit her again, but he cut the ropes holding her to the chair and tugged her up in front of him, hands still zip tied together, using her as a shield. 

“Coward!” Karen hissed, trying to squirm free of his hold as she heard Frank kicking down the door to the room they were in. 

Taylor cocked his gun and put it to her temple. Karen froze, breathing hard. She was sure that she looked like shit right now if Frank’s reaction was anything to go by. 

“Lieutenant Castle. Long time no see,” Taylor called out cooly. 

“Sarge,” Frank replied, eyes trained on the other man. “Let the lady go,” He ordered. 

“Mmm no, I don’t think so. You’ve been ignoring our calls. We’ve been looking for you, Schoonover and I.” Taylor started monologuing, and Karen tuned out, trying to make eye contact with Frank, trying to get him to look at her, but he was completely focused on Taylor and the gun being held to her head. 

Taylor escalated to yelling, pushing the barrel of the gun further into her head, his finger itching towards the trigger, and Frank tensed up. She could see him trying to line up the shot, but Taylor had his head mostly behind hers. He was smart, trying to hide behind her. 

“Frank…” Karen called out softly. 

His eyes flickered to hers, nervous like a trapped animal. 

“Frank, I trust you. Okay? I trust you. Just do it. It’s okay,” Karen whispered intensely. 

She could see the self-doubt in his eyes, the fear. 

“Take the shot, Frank! Take it!” She shrieked, urging him to action. 

She felt the bullet as it breezed by her, finding its target between Taylor’s eyes. She was trembling like a baby deer and her knees gave out. She hit the cement, slumping forward onto her shoulders. 

Frank bolstered his gun and rushed to her, smoothing his hands over her hair, her face, her body. A sob broke free from her, her earlier charade of bravado leaving her. 

Frank cut her free of the zip ties, pulling her up against him, shushing her softly and cataloguing all of her injuries. “Karen, Karen, hey. Hey it’s okay, you’re okay,” He murmured, smoothing down her hair. He cupped her face between his calloused hands, running his thumb over the bruise on her cheek bone. 

Karen nodded, her body aching. She just wanted to go home. She told him as much. He nodded and helped her up to her feet, an arm around her waist to steady her as she stumbled in her heels. 

.:.

The walk home wasn’t too long, the two of them sneaking through back alleys and on quiet sidewalks. She gave him her keys to open her door and she limped to the bathroom, sitting down on the seat of the toilet, like Frank would do when he came home after a night out, all cut up and bruised. 

Frank met her with a handle of whiskey and the first aid kit. She grabbed the whiskey and took a swig, coughing some as she swallowed. She couldn’t meet Frank’s eyes as he started to clean her up. 

“You scared the shit out of me, ma’am,” Frank admitted, voice low. “Didn’t think I could’ve made that shot. All I could see is how close you were… how easily I could’ve hit you.” 

Karen shook her hair, strands of her golden hair dancing around as she ran a hand over his hair. “No… Frank. I trusted you. I knew you could do it. I knew you wouldn’t hit me.” Karen stared at him, unwavering in her opinion. “I trust you.” _I love you._

Frank knew what she meant and nodded, bringing her head down so he could kiss her forehead. “I love you too,” he offered a smile. “Now… where the fuck was your gun?”


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've been busy with Finals and now i'm finally on break. Hopefully i can get a few more chapters done while I'm vacationing in Maine! Enjoy!

_iv. Instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe.” Because no matter what you say it’ll mean the same thing._

Karen chewed on her lower lip, watching as Frank attempted to stitch up a gash on his abdomen. She offers hydrogen peroxide and a helping hand. Frank usually turns her away and usually doesn’t take her up on her offer of help. 

Tonight is different.

His hands are coated in blood, _someone else’s, not mine_ , He had assured her and wearily handed her the suture kit. 

Claire had taught her once, after a bottle of wine and Karen’s insistence, how to put in stitches. Claire was tired of being called out to patch up various vigilantes, and so when the opportunity presented itself to have another person capable of doing stitches, she readily agreed. 

Karen’s hands didn’t shake as she pulled the edges of the wound together. She talks about her day at work, meaningless drama at the office. She doesn’t expect Frank to talk back, but she knows that the sound of her voice helps, just her talking will keep him from getting too deep into his own thoughts. 

Before too long, five little loops hold the stab wound closed. Karen wipes an alcohol swab over the line of stitches before patting him on the shoulder. “You’re good to go. Get your ass in the shower and wash up marine,” Karen teases, washing her hands in the sink and getting a towel to clean up the blood from her bathroom floor. 

The corner of Frank’s mouth perks up. He strips down efficiently and turns on the shower, letting her old pipes heat up the water before he hops in. “I love you.” 

Karen hears the thanks in the sentiment, and she smiles. She pulls back the shower curtain and pecks Frank on the lips. “You’re welcome.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back! I did not have good internet during the holidays, but now I'm back home with my WiFi and my cat and will attempt to post more frequently but it just depends on school and work.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are greatly appreciated!

_ v. Casually, as if you don’t mean it. Trying like hell not to mean it. _

 

Frank Castle is an ornery mother fucker. 

 

Karen is fuming, wearing down a path on her bedroom carpet as she paces angrily. 

 

He killed the only lead she had for her story on the shipyard workers corruption after she had vehemently expressed her need to talk to the man and get more information. The workers that manned the biggest shipyard in Hell’s Kitchen have a long history of being paid to look the other way. The criminals that operate there are endless… Fisk, the Triad, the Mafia, the Irish mob, Dogs of Hell, whoever pays them the prettiest penny. She had managed to find one man who was willing to talk about it, show her documents that traced the payoffs back to some of the biggest mob bosses. 

 

And then tonight, she saw on the news as she left work, Colton Marsden, her source, killed by a single gunshot wound to the head. Police were saying it was probably something to do with one of Hell’s Kitchen’s many gangs, but rumors that were already circulating in the Bulletin said that it was the Punisher. 

 

Frank had become sort of a boogeyman in Hell’s Kitchen. After his ‘death’ and the arson to his home, technically Frank Castle wasn’t alive. But talk to anybody on the streets, and they’d tell you that the Punisher walks about, dealing out retribution. 

 

She was going to wring his fucking neck. 

 

She was on her second glass of bourbon, still pacing around her apartment when she heard Frank entering into her apartment through the window above the fire escape. She barely even waited for him to fully enter her place before she shoved a finger in his face, her cheeks flaming from the drink and her anger.

 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,  _ Francis, _ ” Karen spits, getting up in his face. “I told you that I needed to talk to Marsden, get some proof that could help close down those docks for good! After happened with Taylor… when he took me… I could prevent that from happening again, but no! You and your huge  _ man ego  _ had to go and kill him.” 

 

Frank’s face contorts in his own anger as he straddles the windowsill, but he waits for Karen to stop yelling before he interrupts.

 

“He was going to kill you,” he murmurs simply, moving past Karen to put his bag down on the bed. 

 

He has to shoulder his way past her, pushing her off balance. Karen stumbles aside and angrily slams the window closed. “Bullshit. You don’t know that. You killed the only fucking lead that I-“ 

 

“Karen, I heard him. He told me all about the pretty blonde he was going to talk to tonight, and the way he was gonna string her up and…” Frank trails off, unable to repeat the words that Marsden had used to threaten Karen with. “Karen… he was going to kill you,” Frank repeats somberly. “I can’t let that happen to you… not to you…” he whispers lowly. 

 

Karen blinks at him owlishly. “Frank, I…” She swallows. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know.” 

 

Frank gives her a half nod, taking off his vest and peeling off his undershirt. “I… I just need to keep you safe. I love you, ya know?” Frank murmurs nonchalantly, not meeting her eyes. 

 

Karen doesn’t say anything in response, just moved past him to the kitchen to put away her drink. She doesn’t know what to say to him. It had been a few months since he had saved her at the docks. Almost a year since they started dating, or whatever they were doing. She startles as Frank wraps his arms around her waist from behind, tucking his face into her neck. She relaxes against him, sighing and placing her arms on top of him. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she whispers, tilting her head to give him more room at her neck. 

 

“It’s okay.” Frank kisses along the column of her neck. “I’ll find you a new source. Promise. I’ll make it up to you.” His voice is low and gravelly, sending a shiver down Karen’s spine despite herself. 

 

“Mmm… how do you plan to do that?” She purrs, arching her back to press herself against his solid torso. 

 

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Frank chuckles, voice full of promise. God help her, she believes him.


	6. Six

_ vi. Wrapped up in a question. How’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right? You know you can tell them anything. Right? _

  
  


“Karen… Karen!” Frank is staring at her with an amused tilt of his lips. 

 

“Huh? What?” Her head jerked up and she met Frank’s eyes with a glazed look. She had been so focused on typing up an article. Ellison had sent her home, telling her not to infect the whole building with what he called ‘her plague’. It was just a little cold, but Karen’s head felt stuffed with cotton and her face hurt and her ears hurt and her throat felt like crap, but she had work to do. She needed to get this done.

 

“Kare… you’re working yourself to death.” Frank’s voice is gruff, and his arms are crossed over his broad chest as he stares at her. “Have you eaten?”

 

Karen shakes her head and immediately regrets it as the pressure in her head swells. “No,” she rasps, “I.. I just need to get this done. I’ll eat when I get this article finished.” Karen went back to her work on an article that would hopefully raise awareness to Wilson Fisk’s upcoming retrial and hopefully prevent him from getting his conviction overturned and thus preventing him from getting out of jail and coming for her.

 

“Hey!” Karen exclaims petulantly as Frank takes the office chair by the back and rolls her away from her desk. “Frank, let me work!”

 

Frank presses the back of a rough hand to her forehead and purses his lips. “Karen, you look like death warmed over. You’ve got a fever. You need some tea, you need some rest, some medicine, and probably some toast or something.” He stated in a tone that warranted little to no argument. 

 

“If I get some tea, will you  _ please _ let me finish this?” She asks, not really asking for permission. Their relationship isn’t like that. But she’s asking to appease him. 

 

Frank clicks his tongue against his cheek. “What’s up? I’ve never seen you like this before… It ain’t like you to work yourself to death. You know you can tell me anything, right?” He squats down to be on her level.

 

Karen chews on the inside of her lip and doesn’t meet Frank’s eyes as she chooses her words carefully and thinks out the best way to make this confession. She’s never told anyone about how she killed James Wesley, Fisk’s right-hand man. She doesn’t know how Fisk found out, but she knows that her life expectancy will drop off severely if Fisk gets out of jail. She’s thought about telling Frank, she thinks he’s the only one who would understand.

 

She lets out a little sigh before she begins. “Do you remember how I told you about how I met Matt and Foggy?” At his nod, she continues. “Well, Wilson Fisk was the one that was after me at Union Allied. He’s the one who was running the whole thing and was trying to get rid of me after I found some information that implicated him. So, all of last year, he was going after me, and after anyone who looked into that whole mess. Well… His right-hand man kidnapped me. Put me up in this room with just him. He threatened me, and Matt, and Foggy, and everyone else I ever cared about. Said if we didn’t drop the case against Fisk than he would kill all of my friends and then come after me.” Karen took a shuddering breath, giving Frank a reassuring smile as he laid a hand on her knee supportively. “He took a call and left his gun on the table. I pointed it at him, and when he said it was empty and when he said I wouldn’t shoot him, I pulled the trigger 7 times.” Karen presses her hand to her mouth as the memory comes back unbidden. “That was Fisk’s right-hand man, his number two… If he ever finds out it was me that killed him, he’ll murder me and it won’t be quick either.” She bites her lip and a shiver runs down her spine at the memory of her recurrent nightmares featuring Fisk. “That’s why this article is so important. I can’t let Fisk go to retrial. He has the whole city in his pocket, and I’ll be number one on his list once he gets out of jail…” Karen’s voice cracks as tears escape down her cheeks. 

 

“Hey… you listen to me,” Frank whispers gruffly, cupping her cheeks in his rough palms, wiping away her tears. “I ain’t gonna let that happen. He’s not gonna get to you, and I’ll make sure of that. I’ll kill ‘im, and he knows that too.”

 

Karen nods, trying to get herself under control. “Th-Thanks.” Karen leans into Frank’s arms, letting him rub her back soothingly. She closes her eyes.

 

She wakes up as Frank carefully deposits her in bed and then goes to plug in her laptop. Hugging the blankets up to her chin, she closes her eyes, and for once, she lets herself be taken care of. 


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I'm finishing out my last semester of college and will update when I can.

_ Vii. Under your breath, while the whole house sleeps, just before you have to leave for the day. More for yourself than for them.  _

 

Frank carefully opens her window, trying not to knock over anything on the sill. He shuts and locks it behind him, being as silent as he can so as not to wake Karen up. 

 

It's a quarter past three in the morning and he’s just finished up for the night. The kitchen light is on, but the living room and bedroom light are off, so Karen is probably in bed. He makes quick work of stripping down to just his boxer-briefs before crawling into bed. He’s showered at his little safe house before coming to Karen’s, left most of his weapons there too. 

 

Karen makes a sleepy little whimper, turning into Frank’s chest, winding her arms around his broad chest and hiking a leg up over his thigh. 

Frank felt like his heart was about to burst, always did when he was with Karen like this when she was more asleep than awake and clung to him, curled up with him, trusted him to watch over her. Being around Karen always ended with his heart jammed up in his throat. 

 

He held her tightly against his chest, dropping a light kiss to her forehead, smiling as she nuzzled into his bare chest. “I love you…” He rumbled, more to himself than anything. 

* * *

 

 

Karen woke in the morning to sunlight streaming through her gauzy curtains and Frank curled around her, his chest to her back. Smiling to herself, she allowed herself to savor his warmth for a little while longer before getting up, careful not to disturb him. She dressed quickly and brushed her hair up before twisting it into a low bun. She allowed herself a moment to watch Frank sleep; He looked so peaceful, resting against her pillows and cradled in her comforter. She snapped a picture of him on her phone, saving it to an album labeled ‘research’. She turned off the bathroom light and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I love you…” she whispered before leaving for the day, locking her door behind her. 


End file.
